Remember Me
by Oziasta
Summary: What happens when Clary bumps her head and forgets the recent things that have happened to her?  Does she forget all of her training and the heartbreak from the past months, her friends and family?  M for lemons.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: What happens when Clary bumps her head and forgets the recent things that have happened to her? Does she forget all of her training and the heartbreak from the past months? What happens to her relationships with her friends and family? What happens with Jace?**

**Hi! This is my first fan fic, just seeing how it goes and if anyone likes it. I love the TMI books but sadly the characters from them do not belong to me, only the plot of this fic. Please let me know anything you you think of it! :)**

**Ozzie**

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><p>When Clary opened her eyes the first thing she saw was early morning light peeking thought the cracks in the curtains of a very clean room. Her head was resting on a soft pillow and there was a weight around her waist, her back pressed into a warm and solid figure. Her eyes widened and she looked behind her at the sleeping face of a boy.<p>

She uttered a surprised cry and jumped out of the bed. The boy woke suddenly at the movement and cold air hitting his bare chest "Wha—" he exclaimed. He sat up and when he saw the space next to him empty his eyes scanned the room and rested on Clary's frightened form up against the wall, fingers splayed wide as if to help keep her from toppling over.

"Clary?" He asked bewilderedly and got out of the bed and took a few steps towards her. Despite her panicked thoughts her mind fleetingly admired how beautiful this boy was, a bronzed and muscular torso with pale hair that fell over molten gold eyes that swam in confusion.

Clary held up a hand. "Stay back!" She warned, eyes darting around for an escape. "Who are you? And why were you in bed with me? How do you know my name?" She found the door and made a break for it, not waiting for her questions to be asked, and sprinted past the boy and into a hallway lined with doors identical to the one she had just come out of, nearly running a cat who made an angry noise.

"Clary!" The boy called. Clary decided to go left and ran down the long hallway, turning right when the building made her. She turned a few more times and got spun around. _This place is like a room of mirrors_, she thought and ducked into one of the rooms, checking behind her first to make sure the half-naked boy was not following her. She opened another door within the room and found it was a bathroom. She quickly closed the door to the bathroom and sank down to lean against the tub. Her head began to pound and Clary closed her eyes for a moment before remembering her phone—her phone! Yes, of course, she could call someone! She felt the pockets of her jeans for her phone and came up empty handed.

"Shit," she muttered and pulled her hands through her hair. She had no idea what to do. In all of the self defense lessons or whatever at school they had only taught how _not _to get kidnapped or raped, not what to do if you actually _were_.

At a loss, Clary pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her ankles, feeling the cold of the porcelain tub spread throughout her back.

Swearing under his breath, Jace pulled a T-shirt over his head and followed Clary out into the hallway. He had no idea which way she had gone and glanced at Church, stalking along the wall with his fur standing on end. Jace decided not to bother the poor animal anymore than he already was. "Isabelle!" He called and was answered by an agitated "whaaat" from across the hall.

"Can you help me," he called, running his hands over his face. Isabelle's door opened and she faced him, hip jutted out with her fist placed on it.

"What now?" She sighed.

"Hey! I don't ask for help very often—" he stopped. "Whatever. Help me find Clary? She ran off…" Jace trailed off and shook his head. "Anyways I didn't hear the elevator being used so I think she's still in the Institute. Please." He added and turned away without bothering to look if Isabelle had stepped out. "I'll start this way."

Jace went down the hall to the next door and opened it, looking around the room and in the closet and bathroom. No Clary. He went to the next room and the next and the next.

After about twenty minutes he had looked into all of the rooms in the west wing of the Institute. There were only a few left, and since he hadn't heard Isabelle these last doors were his last hope of finding Clary and straightening this whole mess out.

He stepped into yet another room and looked around before opening the door to the bathroom. He saw her move and reached out to stop her only to realize she was moving away from him, cowering in the corner and not bringing her green gaze up to meet his. It was like a blow to the stomach, seeing her frightened of him. Clary had never been afraid of him, even when they first met all those months ago. She had challenged him and made him fall for her completely and now it was if those green eyes he loved so much were seeing him for the first time as some sort of demon. It was painful, physically painful.

He reached his hands out in a gesture of "I'm not going to hurt you" and she flinched. Jace swallowed hard. "It's okay," he said in a soft voice as if he were talking to a wild animal he was trying to tame. "It's okay, I won't to touch you," he murmured, and slowly went to his knees, sitting back on his heels.

"Jace? Jace?" Isabelle called from the hallway. "I couldn't find—" she stopped abruptly when she walked in on the scene in the bathroom. "Clary, what's wrong?" Isabelle frowned, her eyebrows pulling low over her dark eyes.

"She doesn't remember," Jace said softly. He was gazing at Clary as he normally would have but now there was a wall between them, of inaccessibility, a barrier made up of his desperation to hold her and her fear of him.

"She doesn't remember what?" Isabelle asked.

"Anything," Jace whispered, and his shoulders sagged now that the words had been spoken, as if before he said it, he didn't really believe it to be true. But now it was and he didn't know what to do.

"She doesn't remember anything."


	2. Chapter 2

Isabelle immediately stopped talking when she walked into the bathroom and felt the tension in the small room. It wasn't the usual sexual tension that surrounded Clary and Jace but an uncomfortable one, a tension filled with fear on one side and longing on the other, creating a strange mix in the air that flowed between them. To say the least, Isabelle was confused.

Isabelle wasn't used to seeing Clary frightened in Jace's presence, let alone cowering away from him. "Clary, what's wrong?" Isabelle could feel her eyebrows pull down over her eyes.

"She doesn't remember," Jace murmured, kneeling on the floor and leaning back on his heels. He was still gazing at Clary like he usually did; a soft but hungry look of love and desire. But now it was as if someone had drawn a sheer curtain between the two lovers, and it was killing Jace.

"She doesn't remember what?" Isabelle asked, looking from Clary to Jace and back again.

"Anything," Jace whispered. Isabell visibly saw Jace deflate, like all the fight had been kicked out of him with that one word.

"She doesn't remember anything." Isabelle felt her eyes widen as she looked at the small girl in the corner of the bathroom. It all made sense to her now. Isabelle saw the whole thing play out in her head like someone had recorded it to be played back over and over again.

Jace had come running into the Institute holding Clary in his arms two days before. He had been unscathed but Clary had a still fresh trickle of blood running down her pale face. Jace's face had been wild with uncertainty and worry as he called out to everyone who could possibly help him. Isabelle, Alec and Maryse had followed Jace into his room where he had laid Clary's tiny body.

Jace bent over her and brushed her hair out of her face. "Clary?" He had asked, cupping her cheek in his hand as he gazed down at her. "Clary!" He had grabbed her shoulders and pressed his ear against her chest, listening for her heart.

Jace had jerked away, running his hands through his hair and pacing around the room, speaking faster that Isabelle had ever hear him speak. "She was—angry. At me. I did something to upset her, I'mnotsurewhatbutshewasmad. She ran out of the Institute and I chased after her. I called her name and she turned around. I asked her what was wrong and she spun around. She pushed me and called me a liar, I knew what I did, and how could I do that to her. Then I reached out to her and she pushed me again, knocking me off balance a little and . I couldn't catch her. What if she doesn't wake up? Oh God, oh God what do I do? This is my fault, all my fault." Jace then crouched down and put his head in his hands.

Maryse had calmly stepped forward and bent next to Jace. She'd rubbed circles into his back and spoke quietly to him for a moment. Isabelle couldn't make out what her mother was saying. All she knew was that Jace took his hands away from his face and looked up at her and nodded. Maryse held her hand out and Jace put his steele into it. Maryse went over and drew an izrate into Clary's pale skin and then turned to her children who were hovering in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

"Go for now, Jace I think just needs a little bit of time," she said quietly and looked over at Jace— sitting on the floor with his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face. "I trust him to tend to her well, so let's give him some privacy with her," she said and ushered Isabelle and Alec out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Maryse had given Isabelle and Alec each a sad look, turned and clicked down the hall in her power suit and heels. Isabelle turned to Alec, her eyes wide, unsure of what to say. She felt tears brimming in her eyes and felt one spill over. Her brother saw and pulled her close, gently leading her down to her own room.

Isabelle had wiped at her eyes, looking up at her big brother. His face had been set in stone, not devoid of any emotion but Isabelle could tell he was trying to stay strong for everyone. He had opened the door to her room and let her in, guiding her to her bed and sitting next to her. "She'll be all right," he had said. "Jace won't let her not be okay." And with that, he had gotten up and left the room, leaving Isabelle all alone.

Jace had stayed with Clary for two days. Isabelle had brought food to the room and taken away the dishes, still practically full every time. That had meant Jace wasn't eating, because he was using a healing rune to keep Clary nourished. Every time Isabelle went into the room Jace was beside Clary on the bed, either holding her close or staring up at the ceiling with a tortured expression. It had been hard to see Jace like this, all of the life totally and completely drained.

All of a sudden Isabelle came flying back into herself and she was in the small tension-filled bathroom. Clary looked up at Isabelle and met her gaze. "I just want to go home," she whispered. Isabelle nodded falteringly. Jace stood.

"I'll get her stuff," he muttered. He turned and walked out of the room, shoulders still slumped.

Clary rose and wrung her hands. "So…" she said quietly after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours," she murmured shyly.

Isabelle was a bit taken aback. _Of course,_ she thought. If Clary couldn't even remember who _Jace _was how would she remember Isabelle? "I'm Isabelle," she said finally.

"Oh, well. It's nice to meet you, Isabelle."

"Yeah," Isabelle agreed, her voice distant.

Jace walked in then, carrying Clary's shoes, jacket and messenger bag. Clary looked at him warily and Isabelle could see the hurt in his eyes. He placed her belongings on the floor, a few feet away from her.

Clary took her things, pulled on her jacket and laced up her shoes. "I'll take you home," Jace said and turned around to leave.

"Actually—" Clary said. "Can Isabelle?" She asked.

Jace's head whipped around, his eyebrows drawn down over his eyes, turning them a deep, dark gold and he stared at Clary for a few moments. "Fine," he finally said, and left the room.

"I—" Isabelle started to say. "Follow me," she said, and led Clary out through the Institute. Once they were outside Isabelle flagged down a taxi and opened the door for Clary. She gave the cabbie the address and then turned to Clary. "So," Isabelle stated.

"Um, yes?" Clary asked.

"You don't remember anything?" Isabelle asked, trying to not sound too pushy or demanding. "Not even Jace?"

Clary just shook her head.

"Do you want to remember? Or would you rather just forget all of this?" There, Isabelle put it out there. She knew Jace would be furious if he found out that Isabelle had presented Clary with this option and she took it. "If you want, I'll just drop you off at your house and you'll never hear from us again. You can forget you ever met me, um, again, and just go on with your life." She paused. "Although I'm guessing you're missing about two months because you don't even remember Jace."

Clary perhaps looked even more unsure of herself than she had before. "I'm not sure," she whispered. She was fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket, and wouldn't meet Isabelle's gaze.

The two girls rode in silence for a few more minutes until the cabbie pulled up to Clary's building. "Thank you," Clary said, finally meeting Isabelle's eyes. It was odd for Isabelle to see those bright green eyes in the face of a stranger.

"Sure," Isabelle replied. "If you decide you want to come back to us, mine and Jace's numbers are programmed in your phone," she added, looking down at Clary's bag. "If I don't hear from you in a week I can promise you will never see any of us again."

Clary only nodded and ducked out of the cab, running up to the building door. She turned and gave Isabelle one last look and went inside.

"Where to, miss?" The cabbie asked.

"Back from where I came from," Isabelle answered.

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><p><strong>Thank you to everyone who read and especially those who reviewed! :) I'm currently writing the next chapter, so I probably won't update as fast as I put up the second chapter. Let me know what you think, what you think I need to addget rid of/what you think should happen and whether or not you like it! Thanks :)**

**Ozzie**


	3. Chapter 3

**A couple songs I listened to while writing :)**

**LoveGame—Lady Gaga**

**Need You Now-Lady Antebellum**

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><p>Clary reached up and pulled his mouth down to hers. After her long day she just wanted to get lost in his body and the way it made hers burn with desire. He backed her up against the wall and pressed himself hard against her. His hands rested on her hips as he slowly but irrevocably pushed a denim-clad knee between her thighs.<p>

Her pulse spiked at the feel of him between her legs and her hands, wild in his hair, slid down, down to the hem of his shirt. Her fingers found their way under the fabric and she pressed her palms against the warm, firm skin there. She continued to slide his shirt up and he pulled it the rest of the way off. Clary smiled at his beautiful bronzed chest as she drew him near again. He had swirling designs all over his body, accentuating the rippling cords of muscle. He stopped her for a moment, only to smile down at her and pull her tank over her head.

Clary saw his eyes go half-mast as he pulled the fabric away. She was wearing a lacy black bra she had been forced to buy when shopping with her friend. "Trust me," she had said. It appeared Clary's friend had been right. His mouth attacked Clary's again, more forceful and urgent than before. When he pressed her against the wall again she could feel the cool metal of his belt buckle against her lower stomach.

"Clary—" he whispered, trailing kisses down her neck to her shoulder and back again.

"Yes?" She smiled against his mouth.

"Can I—" he asked.

"_Yes_." She answered. "Touch me," she commanded. She took his hand from her hip and brought it to her breast. "Touch me," she whispered. He took her breast in his hand and she moaned as be begun to message it. She felt something press against her thigh and smiled against his lips. "Bed," she ordered and nibbled his lower lip.

He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around her waist. They fell on the bed together and Clary felt his hands go immediately go to the button of her jeans. He unzipped them and stood at the foot of the bed as he slowly tugged them down her legs. Clary put her arms above her head and moved restlessly on the bed, never breaking their heated gaze.

When he came back to her his jeans were gone and his lips more forceful. His tongue traced her lips, demanding entrance. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra, slowly drawing the fabric away. He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth. He swiped his tongue around it, causing her to moan. When his teeth closed against it gently and he began to suck her back arched involuntarily and she cradled his head in her arms, pulling him nearer.

Clary's mind was nothing but a blur of heat and desire. Any lucid thought flew out immediately, and she focused on only one. _Mine. _His hands went to Clary's matching lacy black cheekies and he pulled the fabric down, his lips tracing designs on her stomach. He looked up at her with a mischievous smile and placed his hands on her knees. He kissed her stomach one last time and spread her legs. "Clary," he murmured with humor in his voice. "You're so wet for me." He gently touched her most intimate spot and then applied more pressure with each moan he extracted from her.

He inserted a finger, and then two, thrusting in and out of her tight walls as her hips bucked uncontrollably. He inserted a third finger and brought his mouth down to tease her sensitive nub. "Oh, God, oh God," she moaned.

He moved up her body and kissed her softly, pulling back to look in her eyes. His fingers hadn't stopped pulling in and out, touching her, making her wetter and wetter. He curved his finger slightly and watched as Clary's eyes rolled back with pleasure. "Please," she moaned. "_Please_. More." She met his eyes and could see him smile a devilish little grin as if he was enjoying the complete and total power he had over her in that moment.

He curled his fingers up and hit her pleasure spot. She exploded in a flurry of fire and pleasure and desire. His fingers continued to stroke her as her walls contracted around them. He managed to extract every last shudder, every last cry out of her before he kissed her again. "You're gorgeous," he whispered against her cheek.

She was still breathing heavily, but yanked down his boxers and rolled them over together. She straddled him, pressing her wetness against his raging erection and bent down to give him a slow kiss. She bit his lip then nibbled his earlobe. "Now that I have you at my mercy," she whispered in his ear, "I can do whatever I want with you." She took her first two fingers and pretended to walk up his chest and tapped him on the nose. "So what do you say," she paused and gave a sly little smile. "Should I surprise you?"

His eyes darkened even more and Clary felt his erection press harder against her. She slowly slid down his body and took his length into her small hands. He groaned. "Hmm," she wondered out loud, "should I just—" she bent and took him into her mouth. It was a tight fit for her small mouth but she managed it, and drove him crazy. She wrapped her hand around the base and began to slide up and down his length. "Clary—" he groaned, and after some teasing from Clary's tongue he came undone.

She crawled back up and straddled him again. She braced her hands against his chest and aligned their bodies. He had just barely entered her when he growled and flipped them over. He grabbed her hips and thrust into her—

Clary sat up, gasping. She looked over at the clock. It read two-thirty am. Groaning, she collapsed back on the pillow. She reached up to feel her face, which was hot. She got out of her bed, tossing the covers aside and walked into the bathroom. She splashed cool water on her face and patted dry with a small towel. She looked in the mirror to see her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild. She sighed and flipped off the lights, walking back to her bed. She got under the covers again and lay back, closing her eyes and trying to invite sleep to stay the night. But she knew it wouldn't come.

For the past five nights, Clary had had some very strange dreams. First, the sex fantasy dreams, which she had no idea about. Those dreams always involved little clothing and the same muscular, inked body. In all of them she could never see the face of her supposed lover. The only thing she knew about this fictional boy was that he knew how to light her body on fire and keep the blaze going.

The second kind of dreams was not quite a dream—more like a nightmare. Clary would be alone in an alley, or dark room or such and a horrible, gruesome looking and foul smelling _thing _would come and attack her. But that wasn't even the strangest part of the whole thing. After it started attacking her, Clary would fight it off. She had always been skeptical and scared at horror movies but when the real live monster was coming at her instead of freezing up and possibly being killed or eaten she would fight. She had all sorts of strange weapons and was dressed in an all black badass get up. She would slice of a head with a glowing sword or stab one of those things through the heart.

But instead of falling, the beasts just vanished. Poof. They were gone and Clary heard footsteps behind her and people calling her name. But then she always woke up. The dreams were all slightly different. Maybe one time Clary stabbed a beast and another time she severed an important artery.

But these other dreams… these _intimate_ dreams were perhaps even stranger. She had turned idea after idea around in her head about what might be causing these dreams. They both left her bolting awake and unable to fall back asleep. She wanted to understand why she kept having them. And besides, she Clary didn't want to walk around as some horny, night terror sufferer, angst ridden teenager. She could do angst ridden well enough on her own.

Since these dreams started, Clary had tried to find the origin of them… and came up empty handed. The only thing she could possibly connect these strange dreams to in her horribly normal life were the chunks missing from her memory. She had gone back and forth so much about whether or not she should call Isabelle back. She wanted to get to the bottom of this mess, but wasn't sure if she wanted to uncover this thing her brain had chosen to forget. _Who knows? _Clary had thought. _Maybe there's a reason I forgot that and not something else._

Clary sighed, unsure of what to do and knowing there was no way she would go back to sleep. Without thinking, Clary reached for her phone and found Isabelle's number in the address book. She pressed the send button and waited. After five rings there was no answer, so she dialed another number Isabelle had said was saved in her phone.

She pressed send again and he picked up on the second ring. "Hello? Clary?" He sounded so anxious. And…intimate. The way her name rolled off his tongue caused a shiver to shoot up her spine and blood to warm her cheeks. She shook her head to clear it of the images her mind conjured up of this beautiful boy. Who she had slept in the same bed with.

Clary cleared her throat. "Um, yeah. Hi—Jace," she said falteringly. "I was wondering if I could come by your, um—"

"The Institute."

"Yes, I mean yeah. The Institute." Clary took a deep breath. "I just wanted to ask Isabelle, or er, you, some questions. I keep having these dreams…" she trailed off.

"Dreams?" Jace asked.

"Um yeah... dreams. I have no idea where they are coming from or if they even mean anything. But I haven't been able to sleep for a few days because of them… and I was just hoping that maybe they were related to—" she paused. "What I forgot."

"And you want to come now?" He asked.

"Well yeah," she replied. "I mean, it's only—" she glanced at the clock. It now read quarter to three. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry I shouldn't have called. It's really okay it can wait—"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he paused" don't leave your house. There are some pretty nasty things that walk around New York at three in the morning."

"Thanks, Jace," she whispered.

"Of course. Don't worry about it. Coming over at three in the morning is something a boyf—" he stopped abruptly.

"A what?" Clary asked.

"Nothing. Nothing I'll be there soon," he promised and the line went dead.

Clary pulled the phone away from her ear. What had he said? Coming over at three in the morning a—_boyfriend_? Had he been about to say boyfriend? Clary felt her pulse race at the thought. Jace, the golden boy—and Clary the… artist. What a lame combination. She shook her head for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

Why would Jace go after her when he had girls like Isabelle? Isabelle was… a gorgeous sexy goddess and Clary was… well. Clary was a small red headed girl who liked to draw. There was nothing sexy about her, Clary thought. She bet that before the accident Jace was just her really good friend. _That's why he was…sleeping with me that morning I woke up_. It didn't make sense but Clary let the confusing thought drop out of her head.

_Jace is coming here, _she thought suddenly. She was only wearing a pair of boyshorts and a tight tank because of the broken air conditioner and summer heat of New York. Clary went to her closet and threw open the doors. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a white v-neck tee. It wasn't a social call, after all.

Clary had just finished taming her hair when she heard an almost unable to be heard rap on the front door. She grabbed her bad and ran out to open the door and found herself face to face with Jace. "Hi," she whispered, looking up to meet his golden gaze. His fair hair was artfully mussed; (though she doubted it was on purpose) he wore a snug black long-sleeved shirt, dark jeans and boots. His hands were in his pockets.

"Hey," he replied and smiled down at her. "After you," he stepped back and let her lead the way.

Clary brushed past him in the narrow hallway and sucked in a quiet breath when their arms touched. She glanced back at him and quickly looked forward again when she met his intense eyes. She quickly went down the stairs and pushed the door and stepped out into the warm night. She turned right, nervous to be alone with Jace and wanting to get to the Institute as quickly as possible.

"Clary." His voice sounded amused.

"What." She turned around.

He jerked his head in the opposite direction. "This way." He was looking at her with a bemused expression. He walked next to her, too far to accidentally tough but close enough that Clary felt safe. She wasn't sure when it happened, but now she felt comfortable around him. Still nervous—who wouldn't be around Jace—but comfortable instead of terrified.

They walked for a couple more blocks when a man stepped out from the shadows of a building. Well, stumbled really. He came up unnervingly close to Clary and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. All of a sudden he was gone, slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. Jace shoved Clary behind him protectively and turned on the drunken stranger.

"Hey there pretty girl," the man drawled. "Yeah you come with me and I'll show you a good—" the man let out a strangled cry as Jace's fist connected with his jaw. Clary heard the sickening crunch of bone being crushed. "Ugnnh," the man moaned.

Jace advanced on the man again but Clary reached out and grabbed Jace's sleeve, stopping him. "Jace," she said.

He looked down at her and his face softened from the murderous mask. He touched her cheek gently and asked "are you okay? He didn't touch you, did he?"

"What? No, no he didn't." She shook her head. "He's just drunk. Let him go," she said softly.

Jace glanced at the man clutching his face. He walked up to the man and grabbed his collar, slamming him against the tree and leaning in close. "If I ever see you again consider yourself a dead man," Jace warned menacingly.

The man's eyes widened and he glanced at Clary over Jace's shoulder. Jace let him go "Now get the _fuck_ out of here before I change my mind."

The man turned and ran as fast as he could, wobbling and winding down the sidewalk away from Clary and Jace. Jace's face was set in stone as his eyes followed the stumbling man. He looked down at her and placed a hand on her shoulder "you sure you're okay?" She nodded. "Then let's get out of here," he said and they turned to start walking again. Clary couldn't be positive, but she thought he now walked closer to her than before. _Accidental touching distance_, she thought. She tried to hide her smile all the way to the Institute.

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><p><strong>So... longest chapter for now by far. What did you think? Boring? Not boring? Good? Bad? Not enough lemonade? Too much? Please let me know what you think by writing a review! :) Feel free to tell me your suggestions and whatever else you think! Thank you for reading. And reviewing. Hehe.<strong>

**Ozzie**


	4. Chapter 4

Jace had been sleeping fairly well in comparison to recent nights when his phone sang out loudly on the nightstand. He had grabbed the offensive device and was about to press ignore when he saw her beautiful smiling face on the caller ID.

_Clary._

His heart pounded and he opened the phone and put it up to his ear. "Hello? Clary?" He thought there was something wrong because of the hour she called.

He had heard her clear her throat and start stammering. He frowned at the sound of Clary being uncomfortable while talking to him. She never had been before. Jace knew that if he hadn't done whatever Clary had accused him of doing, they wouldn't be in this situation. They would be out enjoying each other's company and love, or in bed ravishing each other's bodies with a heated impatience.

Instead it seemed as if Clary was impatient for their conversation to end. Jace had waited patiently as she stumbled over her words and he had told her he would come by her apartment to pick her up. Then he had slipped up, he made a major mistake and he barely caught himself. Clary had been worried about the time and Jace wanted to reassure her it was something he wanted to do, and as her boyfriend, it was his duty to keep her safe.

But he wasn't her boyfriend. Not anymore. She had forgotten him and now he was lost without her. The indifference to life he had embodied before he met her was trickling back. He could feel it, like a dark cloud slowly overcoming the brightness of the sun. There wasn't even a doubt in his mind that Clary remembered him at all. After all, if she had, even a little bit, she wouldn't have actually been terrified of him.

She might not be terrified now, Jace thought, but he knew he would have to work hard to get her back again.

Clary was quiet the whole way to the Institute after then little incident with the drunk man. The whole way it had been so hard for Jace to not grab hold of her hand, or put his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Although Jace still saw her as the girl he had fallen in love with, she had no recollection of everything that had happened between them. It had really hit him then. She might never remember all of the stolen moments between them or the utter trust and love that had grown between them in the past months.

Now that Jace was thinking about it, he really didn't know what would happen to him if she never remembered. Clary completely occupied his thoughts at all times of the day. Even when he was out fighting demons, she was always there, in the back of his mind, urging him on. Jace knew he was utterly incapable of being a normal, functioning human being without her presence, her touch, or her love.

If Clary couldn't remember, the only way he could ever feel hope again was to win her over again. But he had to go about it carefully now, because she was clearly already a little bit frightened of him. The thought pained him; he knew he had to find a way to fix that.

They arrived at the Institute without further interruption and ascended in the noisy elevator. Jace was surprised when nobody came out to see what the commotion was about. He glanced at Clary. Her eyes were wide as she took in the room surrounding them. It put a physical pain in Jace's chest to see her lack of recognition at the familiar place. However futile, he had harbored some kind of hope that she would at least remember something from the place she had practically lived for the past months.

"So," Jace started, breaking the silence that felt as if it would last forever. "Nobody is up yet, but…"

Clary just looked at him with wide, bright eyes. "Do you want to just wander around? Or do you want a tour, or…"

"Actually, I wanted to just talk to you," she replied, biting her nail.

Jace felt his heart skip a beat. He forced back a smile and instead gave her a nod. "Where do you want to talk? We have the library, the kitchen, greenhouse…" he trailed off again.

"Um, the greenhouse is fine," she said softly.

"Okay," Jace smiled slightly and gestured up the stairs, following her when she began her assent.

"I keep having these… dreams," Clary started. Jace sat across from her on the ground of the greenhouse, watching her intently.

"Dreams?" Jace asked. "About what?"

Clary felt her insides go fluttery when he watched her so intently. It was like he could see into her. It was unnerving but Clary couldn't help but like the feeling of intimacy between them, even if imagined. "Yeah…" She trailed off. "More like nightmares I guess."

"I'll be walking alone at night like in an alley or something, and then all of a sudden this horrible, foul-smelling, _thing_ will appear. It's terrible and ugly and then it starts coming after me. But the thing is, instead of running away like I should, I start fighting it with swords and daggers. It's so strange because I can't even sit through a scary movie."

Jace had leaned forward slowly throughout her entire spiel. His face was very near hers now and Clary could see every beautiful detail of his chiseled face. The molten gold of his eyes, his fair hair and luscious lips. He seemed to notice his position and cleared his throat, sitting back. Clary didn't let herself be disappointed. He was studying her, still silent. Clary decided to go on.

"But… there are other dreams too." He looked confused. "Um, they all have the same, uh—person in them, and they are all basically the same."

Jace frowned but let her stumble forward. "I, well—its always just one person, er boy. And we are—kissing." Jace's eyebrows lifted. "Things get really—um, hot between us and when I um, take his shirt off…" Clary felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden talking about this with a complete stranger.

"Go on," Jace urged.

Clary took a deep breath and wrung her hands in front of her. "When he doesn't have his shirt, he is covered in tattoos, but I can never see his face. And it's always the same boy; I know it is, because the tattoos are always the same. But—" she paused before going on again. "But I don't know what these are… I mean I don't know if this boy is someone I knew during _those_ months, but what I do know is that there is no way I would ever be able to what I do in the other dreams."

Jace stared at her for a long moment before speaking and Clary could feel herself growing warm under his intense gaze. "What if," he proposed, "they're memories?"

"That's impossible," Clary immediately responded.

"Why would it be impossible?" Jace asked.

"Because—" Clary said falteringly, "Because it's just not me. At all."

"But it could be," Jace urged. "It could just be the part that you don't remember."

"But why would my mind choose to forget only that?" Clary exclaimed. None of it made any sense to her; why she couldn't remember the last months of her life, or why it was those specific moments she had to forget. Obviously she had had a life here before the accident, and it frustrated her to no end that she couldn't remember the people that seemed to know her so well.

Jace began to pace. He pulled his hand through his hair like he was trying to figure out what to say. He seemed like there was something he wanted to say but every time he opened his mouth to talk, he closed it again. Sighing, he stopped and dragged his hands down his face. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and put his hands on his hips. His forearms looked familiar.

Clary shot up and went over to Jace, grabbing his arm and holding it in front of both of them. "What are these?" She breathed as she tugged the sleeve higher up his muscular arm.

Jace tried to pull his arm away from her firm grip. "Not—"

"_Don't_ say they're nothing, Jace," she snipped and looked up at him. He looked down at her strangely, like he was once again trying to hold something back.

"They're runes," he finally said.

"I should know that?" Clary asked, trailing her fingers over a particular swirling one that traveled up his forearm. She was fascinated by the intricate designs and patterns.

"Yes," Jace replied softly. "You have them too," he said in the same tone.

Clary didn't comprehend that. She had dropped his right arm and picked up his left, carefully studying the swirling marks.

She knew those marks. Tattoos, were what she had thought they were. She thought wrong.

Before she could stop herself, her hands were tugging Jace's shirt up.

"Clary!" Jace exclaimed. "What are you doing!"

She continued lifting his shirt, struggling when he wouldn't lift his arms to help her. "Just take it off, Jace," she pleaded. Jace seemed to see where her line of thinking had taken her and he started shaking his head. He pried her hands away from his shirt and stepped away from her.

"Clary, stop," he asked. "Don't…"

"Please," she begged and came towards him again. He stepped back again and she reached out for his shirt. It ripped, and Clary was more surprised at what was before her than her own freakish strength. She came forward again and he backed against the wall. She pulled the scraps away from his body and looked at the very familiar looking chest and abdomen. She looked up and met Jace's eyes. They were dark and intense.

"It's you," she whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it took me so long to do this! It's been crazy here, and I finally finished this enough to post! Hope you like it, and maybe enought to leave a review? :) <strong>

**Ozzie**


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